


Beard Envy

by stubliminalmessaging



Series: Blackhawks 2015 [2]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: M/M, Making Out, Shaving, idek what this is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-18
Updated: 2015-06-18
Packaged: 2018-04-04 22:22:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4155165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stubliminalmessaging/pseuds/stubliminalmessaging
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“But the playoffs are over and shaving eventually is the point of a playoff beard. Otherwise it would just be a regular beard.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beard Envy

**Author's Note:**

> i realized when i finished my last fic that i didn't do anything involving playoff beards which i had planned on. so here's a playoff beard fic

                “Hey,” Mickey said from the couch where he sat watching TV when he heard the door close. He looked over the back of the couch at Ian where he was taking off his shoes. “There’s burgers and mac n’ cheese on the stove.”

 

                “Thanks,” Ian said, running his hand through Mickey’s hair as he walked past the back of the couch. He emptied his lunch bag and put his dirty tupperwares into the sink and then made himself a plate of the dinner that Mickey had made (though Ian could still smell Mandy’s perfume so he suspected it wasn’t a solo effort) and went to sit next to him on the couch. “What’s on?” he asked.

 

                “Some pawn show,” Mickey replied. “Wasn’t really watching.”

 

                “Wanna put on the next episode of House?” Ian asked around a mouthful of macaroni, smiling at Mickey. He slapped Mickey’s ass when he got up and laughed at how he flipped him off. Despite that, he put in the next disc and selected the episode and they settled in, pressed together from shoulder to knee. When they finished the episode Ian got up to put his dish in the sink and put some leftovers in containers for him and Mickey to take to work tomorrow.

 

                Mickey was dicking around on his phone when Ian got back to the couch, but he looked up when he sat down with him again. “Ready for another one?” he asked. Ian shook his head.

 

                “Not just yet,” he said. “I bought a pack of razors today. You ready to do this?”

 

                Mickey scratched his fingers over his patchy beard and sighed. “Yeah. You hate it that much?”

 

                “No, I think it’s cute. No-one else does, but that’s okay.” He reached over and stroked Mickey’s beard too, playing with the longer hairs on his chin. “But the playoffs are over and shaving eventually is the point of a playoff beard. Otherwise it would just be a regular beard.”

 

                “You’re right,” Mickey said. “Wish you didn’t have to shave yours.”

 

                “Yeah? You like this?” Ian teased, touching his beard, much fuller and longer than Mickey’s frankly embarrassing accumulation of facial hair. “Well too bad. I don’t make the rules.” He paused. “I don’t actually know who does. Canadians, probably.”

 

                “Probably,” Mickey agreed. He sat petting Ian’s beard for another moment before he sighed. “Alright, let’s get this shit over with.”

 

                “That’s the spirit,” Ian said, giving Mickey’s thigh a good-natured squeeze and then getting to his feet. Ian grabbed the package of razors he’d picked up and they met up in the bathroom.

 

                “Do me first,” Mickey said, ignoring how Ian practically fucking giggled at the double entendre. “Then I can at least look at your face for a few more minutes before I go into beard mourning.”

 

                “And you say I’m the dramatic one,” Ian mumbled and before Mickey could argue he said; “Alright, take your shirt off and get your ass up on the counter.”

 

                Mickey did as he was told, throwing his shirt in the laundry hamper and hopping up on the counter. Ian took his own shirt off too and let Mickey eyefuck him a little bit before they got started. After trimming off the longer parts of Mickey’s beard (scarce as they were) Ian stoppered up the sink and filled it halfway with warm water, then opened the cabinet and got out the shaving cream.

 

                “Do I look more like your typical hook-up?” Mickey joked once Ian had lathered him up with fluffy white shaving cream.

 

                “You’re pushing your luck considering I’m going to be scraping a blade against your throat in a minute,” Ian said, wetting the razor and starting at Mickey’s sideburns. It didn’t take him long to get Mickey clean shaven again and after he’d cleared the area around his mouth of hair and shaving cream he started kissing Mickey between strokes. One hand swished the razor around in the sink to shake the hair off it and the other cupped Mickey’s jaw. Once Mickey had a smooth face they got to really making out, feeling each other up and messing up each other’s hair. Mickey wrapped his legs around Ian’s waist and pulled him in against his groin.

 

                “Shit, Ian,” Mickey sighed, tilting his head to the side and letting Ian mark up his bare throat. “Oh fuck, get the fuck on me.”

 

                “No,” Ian told him, pulling away with an impressive display of restraint. He shook the razor clean and held it out to Mickey, who groaned in despair. “It’s time, Mick. I know you love it but it’s itchy and hot and I’m really over it so get to it.”

 

                Mickey took the razor from him reluctantly and set it aside to trim the longer parts of Ian’s magnificent ginger beard with their kitchen scissors. Then he sudsed-up Ian’s face and went to work with the razor. Soon Ian’s face was bare and the sink was full of orange hair and Mickey was miserable. Ian toweled his lower face dry and pulled Mickey down off the counter.

 

                “Come on. Just-shaved celebration fuck time.” Ian said and Mickey let himself be dragged along to their bedroom, still pouting. “I’ll do whatever you want,” Ian coaxed, easing Mickey down on their bed and crawling on top of him, straddling his hips.

 

                “You _always_ do whatever I want,” Mickey protested, but let himself be crawled on. “You can’t use that as a bargaining chip when that’s what we usually do anyways.” He watched Ian try to pull away and stopped him with a hand on his dick, rubbing him through his pants. “But you can eat me out. Like rim my fucking brains out. Then maybe I’ll let you fuck me.”

 

                A moment later Ian had climbed off of him and shoved him over onto his stomach. Mickey smirked and settled in for some serious apology sex. (He did let Ian fuck him in the end, and he was so thirsty for it he couldn't even pretend to be reluctant.)


End file.
